


things you said i wasn't meant to hear

by akadiene



Series: things you said [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Marijuana, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Voyeurism, it doesn't last long though, no actual description of sex so don't get your hopes up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 19:08:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadiene/pseuds/akadiene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jack butt-dials Shitty, and Shitty and Lardo learn something new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	things you said i wasn't meant to hear

"I will pay for your fucking ticket if you bus up to Boston for the weekend," Shitty had said as soon as Lardo had picked up her phone, foregoing the greeting. He was mid-meltdown in a rented cubby at one of the libraries and was finding it hard to breathe.

"Dude," Lardo had said, and it was all Shitty could do not to burst into tears right then. "I've got Dex's truck. I'm already half-way there."

When she'd arrived, a duffel bag on her arm and a container of pie in her hand, he _had_ cried.

* * *

 

Now they're laying on Shitty’s bed, both half-naked because something of a heat-wave has passed through late-September Boston, and it’s not even like they usually need an excuse anyway. Besides, they’re both high as fuck (”With the amount of rent my parents pay on this place, you can bet your fucking ass I’m going to smoke in here and no one’s going to say a word”) and Shitty likes the cool air from the fan, and the feel of Lardo's skin against his. He's got a hand tucked underneath her bra, gently playing with her nipple, unhurried (they'd gotten rid of the urgency when he'd piggy-backed her up to his apartment, sat her on the counter as soon as the door was closed and gotten on his knees to eat her out), and he loves when her breath stutters like a hiccup every once in a while.

“Lards, I swear to fuck this place is the deck shoe capital of the United States of America. And if I see one more dude with a sweater around his shoulders  _vaping_ , I am going to goddamn egg the library.”

“Very mature of you,” Lardo says. 

“I’m just so-–” he starts, but can’t finish. He doesn’t know what to say. She lazily passes the joint back to him and nods when he sucks back the last of it. It burns through his lungs like fire and he closes his eyes.

“I know, Shits. I know.”

They lay quietly together, falling into the same easy comfort they’d shared for years. At least this, he can count on. 

“Lardo–”

He is cut off by the sound of his phone singing Céline Dion. 

“Seriously? Céline?” Lardo asks him incredulously, shifting away from his hand sitting up to grab his phone from the bedside table, swiping it to answer.

"Rans has got Alannis Morissette," Shitty says, laughing. He finds it extremely funny.

Lardo just rolls her eyes. “Hey Zimmermann, what’s up?” she asks.

“Put it on speaker,” Shitty says, “I want to talk to my boy. Hello, you motherfucking beauty of a man, what’s going on?”

There’s no answer.

“Jack?” Lardo tries again. She puts up the volume on the phone, yet still nothing. “Oh my God. Did he fucking butt-dialed us?”

“Jaaaack!” Shitty hollers, probably too loudly. Still nothing. Until–

“Fuck,” comes a breathy voice through the phone. 

It’s not Jack’s. 

“Is that–-?” Lardo all but whispers.

“Fuck, Jack, that’s so good,” says the voice, and–-

“Yup. It is,” Shitty whispers back, because holy shit. That is definitely the voice of Eric Richard Bittle, otherwise knows as Junior, or Dicky, or–-

“Bitty, _yes_ ,” and _that_ is Jack, who sounds breathless and just a tad high-pitched. There’s no question what’s going on over there, especially not after Jack continues with, “harder, Bits, please, harder, don’t stop, please…”

Shitty chances a glance at Lardo, who in the soft light of the lamp looks just as shocked as he feels. “We should probably…” he says, letting it fade with the last of the smoke. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Probably should.”

Neither of them move to hang up.

“Did I say you could talk, Mister?” says Bitty sharply, and Shitty feels himself gasp in unison with Jack. 

“Goddamn,” Lardo says softly, eyes impossibly wide.

Bitty’s not done, apparently. “So good for me, Jack, always so good. Look at you. You’re so pretty spread out for me, you know that?”

Shitty gulps. “Always knew he’d be a talker,” he says faintly. Lardo just gapes at the screen.

Jack grunts through the phone, and if this were a different situation, Shitty would prepare a chirp. But it’s not. His two best friends are _having sex_ (and obviously not for the first time) and he and Lardo are  _listening_. 

“Do you like that? Answer me,” Bitty demands. 

Jack’s answer is barely a word and more of a hiss: “ _Yesssssss_.”

“Is it weird that I’m – fuck,” Lardo says, still staring at the phone. Shitty is dizzy with shaking his head or maybe that’s the dope or maybe that’s Lardo’s proximity or maybe it’s the heat or maybe it’s everything all at once causing the world to spin out so hard he has to grab onto her arm for support. 

“So am I,” he says, and he doesn’t miss the quick glance down at his crotch, bulging, barely covered by briefs. 

“Touch yourself,” Bitty orders, and Jack actually _keens._

 _“Christ_ ,” Lardo gasps, then, “fuck it.”

She takes just one second to hang up and throw the phone down on the floor before straddling Shitty, and if they twist Bitty’s orders around to suit them, well, no one will ever, ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a true story, where I somehow (??) face-timed an employee while gettin' it on. Don't worry, I hung up immediately.
> 
> Cross-posted (and fixed up) from my tumblr [ fatlardo ](http://fatlardo.tumblr.com/post/146971226736/zimbits-20-things-you-said-that-i-wasnt-meant) so give me a shout over there!


End file.
